


Red Web

by Ink_Pots



Category: Vampyr (Video Game)
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Blood As An Aphrodisiac, Blood Drinking, Dubious Consent, I apologize if this is a mess lmao, I proofread this while drunk, M/M, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shit's kinky, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:09:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27130225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ink_Pots/pseuds/Ink_Pots
Summary: A different take on Jonathan offering his blood to Sean. It goes badly, but not as badly as the tags might make it seem.
Relationships: Sean Hampton/Jonathan Reid
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30





	Red Web

**Author's Note:**

> I'm drunk, and I always make it my mission to write for underrated pairings. I live for crack ships, and this is no exception.

“…Perhaps even heal you if what Old Bridget says is true. I’ll give you some of mine.” While it was a kind gesture…

“I’d rather not. It would be extremely awkward.” He was hoping Jonathan would understand what he meant without directly saying anything.

“You have no choice, Sean. It’s the only way to protect your cheptel, those still amongst the living…” The tone was a bit too demanding for his liking.

Firm, setting down his candlestick, “No, Dr. Reid. God made me this way. Who am I to disobey his will?”

“You believe that God’s plan was for you to be abandoned at birth?” The implication was sacrilege. Sean was nervous now.

“The lord works in mysterious ways,” he says like he’s trying to convince himself.

The tone turns aggressive, “I can’t imagine God intended for you to be molested by a priest in an orphanage?” Claws cut at their own master, sweet red running down an outstretched wrist. The smell heightens Sean’s agitated emotional state. “Drink, friend!” This feels like the opposite of friendly. His chest tightens.

“No!”

“I said kneel and drink, now!” Those words. For some reason, Sean has some strange natural urge to obey them. The skal in him screaming to obey his ekon master.

But he is more than a skal. He is also a servant of the Lord.

“Sorry, Dr. Reid, but I only kneel before God.” He strides to close the distance between the two, grabbing the bleeding wrist and holding it at the doctor’s side. With his other, he rests against a right shoulder, slowly backing the ekon into a wall. He’s not looking at his face, but there’s plenty of time for Reid to break free with the slow, careful movements Sean is employing. His prey is even letting Sean lead the way, walking with him, even if the saint notices a sudden increase in breath. Once they can move no further, his eyes finally look up at Jonathan’s face, appearing afraid. Wide blue eyes stare right into his white ones.

Sean is looking for permission. Jonathan seems to be searching for something else entirely, eyes darting back and forth at his predator’s features. The Sad Saint supposes he’s searching for intent. In the end, Sean supposes he found it. Eyelids fluttering closed, the good doctor lets out a breath of resignment.

What the Sad Saint does not expect is his prey shrugging his coat off onto the floor and then beginning work on that red tie. He must not want any blood on those expensive clothes of his. Eventually, the buttons of his somehow still bright dress shirt come undone enough to hang loosely around his shoulders, eyes still staring intensely into the other. Even when about to become a meal, Dr. Reid always seems to know how to offer an air of power.

It kind of pisses Sean off.

He moves his clawed hands so that one rests upon the wall next to the dark-haired man’s head. He responds by presenting his neck. Placing his other hand at the small in Jonathan’s waist, Sean brings him closer before going for the neck, breathing in his scent first. He’s not like mortals, skin chilled against his face. That much should have been obvious, but he’s still taken aback by it. Honestly, this whole situation _should_ be taking him aback. He started this under the belief that kneeling before this ekon like God would be much more awkward. Doubt is starting to set in.

If he were in the right mind, he would have stopped right now, but the blood lust has started to cloud his brain. He does something he never normally would have done and licks along the artery in his neck, relishing the feeling of it pulse under his tongue. It drives him absolutely mad! Rose and harsh chemicals greet him when he goes for another breath. Not at all what he expected after the newborn ekon was rolling around in the sewers the past few hours. Finally, he gives in and bites right on the pumping artery underneath the thin layer of skin.

The blood pours into his mouth, and Jesus, Mary, mother of Christ, is it _rich_. The taste is far greater than the bodies of any human he has feasted upon. Forgetting himself, he _moans_ into the connection. Biting again and then again, he draws his body up against Dr. Reid. The red runs down his chin, dripping upon his own black clothes. It tries to escape him down his prey’s neck, so he captures it with his tongue. The doctor sharply intakes under him. Sean responds by going in for his first suck. To his surprise, Jonathan _gasps_ and fists the back of Sean’s jacket, leaning into him and sliding a few inches down the brick. His eyes pop open and roll to the back of his head, staring up at the decaying ceiling.

Unthinking, Sean wraps his arm at his prey’s waist further behind him, pulling them flush against each other. He completely loses himself in his ravenous thirst for blood, groaning loudly and shifting his leg in between the good doctor’s, beginning to slightly grind his thigh upward. Without warning, the skin beneath him feels a lot less cold.

“Se- Sean? What are you doing?” he questions breathily.

In all honesty, he does not know. He feels strangely stronger somehow, even though his muscles have not grown at all. Even with this newfound power, he does not want this to end just yet, and slows down the pace of his blood drinking, licking and kissing the bites in apology. Jonathan mewls at the feeling of a wet tongue and lips against his sensitive neck, breaths slowing down and becoming deeper, warmer. He doesn’t understand why it feels so good when all he should feel is pain. The only thing he knows for sure is that neither of them are in the right state of mind right now.

“Sean, stop,” he tried. When that did nothing, he tried mesmerizing the skal, but his words didn’t come out as assertive as he wanted them to be, the only result a displeased whine. His skin had gone from cold to cool, an arm possessively wrapped around his waist, claws digging into his side. And with each passing moment, he found his own will to resist fading. Protests sound much less convincing when you’re moaning in between each word, legs moving farther apart. A free hand goes up to reach behind the saint’s head and press that mouth further into him, thumb circling his red hair.

Briefly, he tries yanking the hair back. The dark growl directly in his ear afterward makes him shiver so violently, he was halfway convinced the wall would move with him. God, he hadn’t done anything like this since before the war. It was so easy to forget how intoxicated this could make one become. He would have completely given in by now if it weren’t for the fact that Sean wasn’t in his right mind. How much of this was genuine lust? How much was it residual blood lust? Did all skals act like this?

Was he the one taking advantage here? No. No, that was ridiculous. Reid never intended this. If anything, they’re caught in a downward spiral of mutually crossing boundaries. Jonathan should stop it, but those fangs in his throat make him feel supernaturally weak. The blood loss should make him cooler, but a strange pulse of heat drives directly from those sharp teeth through every cell in his body. It’s almost as if the wounds themselves were mesmerizing him. He just _wants_ to submit. Why should he have to feel guilty here when Sean is the instigator?

The saint acts very uncharacteristic of his title, beginning to blindly rut shamelessly into the doctor’s own growing need. He does much more than simply letting him, hooking a claw under his trouser button and letting them loosen around jutting hipbones. Another delicious growl is his answer, a frenzied clawed hand yanks them down to his knees. Next was the union suit. Thankfully, Jonathan was wearing a split version. He had no doubt the lust crazed skal would have simply shredded his clothes otherwise. However, he was scratched as they were snatched down. Blood ran down his thighs. Sean noticed.

The doctor’s neck was spared for a moment as his attacker sank to his knees. This was for no prayer. Instead, he committed a deadly sin, reverently lapping at the blood as it trailed down. When Sean looked up, Jonathan detected no sign of the man who once inhabited those piercing eyes. They were clouded and wild, seeing but not understanding. This both brought guilt and terrified the young ekon.

A chill ran down his spine as he realized a frenzied, hungry skal had his fangs bared near the doctor’s freshly freed member. He froze, watching intently. As if reading his prey’s mind, the red head tore his tongue away to edge his mouth upward, lip pulled back to show off his razor-sharp teeth.

“Sean, stop! This isn’t you,” the anxiety leaked through his voice now, wavering slightly. But the simple truth of the matter was Sean was no longer listening.

He took him all in one fell swoop.

Jonathan gasped in both arousal and fear. Each new moment was a promise for potential disaster. It would be so easy for the Irishman to bite down. There was ample incentive for it, considering how hard the doctor was becoming.

Still as a dormouse between a cat’s claws, he tried vainly, “Sean, no.” The preacher had different plans, however, deciding to toy with his donor by rocking back and forth and sucking.

And, God, could he suck.

Vampires were designed with the ability to suck their victims dry in a manner of seconds. And lord have mercy on his undead soul, Sean was putting that skill to use. With a groan, Reid placed a hand over his face to hide his shame, failing miserably, and once again stared up at the cracked ceiling.

Sean was going to be the second death of him.

Apparently impatient only after a few minutes, the blood drunk skal removed his mouth with an indecent _pop_ , once again abusing his donor’s neck, this time with his bottoms completely removed as well.

And fuck, he would be a horrible liar to say a ragged gasp didn’t escape when a cock and fang connected to him at the same time. The urge to submit to the man dominating him was overwhelming. Hating himself, he rested his arms at his sides and closed his eyes to offer full access. The invitation was taken, a hand fisting hair and another fisting their cocks flush against another. Jonathan could feel precum leaking onto him from the other and brokenly sighed, ashamed of how much he needed this.  


The pace was unforgiving and full of need. The intent, clearly, was to make both of them cum as quickly as possible, and they were doubtlessly approaching this goal. Body shaking with pleasure, Jonathan attempted to muffle his incredibly embarrassing noises with his hand, but Sean had other intentions, pinning his wrist into the hard stone so that each sound spilled liberally from the usually composed gentleman.

Forgetting to breathe, Sean ended it by thoughtlessly placing his lips and tongue over his partner’s. He couldn’t take it. The combination of the two greatest ecstasies had both moaning into each other, tongues swirling eagerly as cum soiled both of their shirts, seeing bright red. The only thing that mattered in that moment was _this_.

Panting, the good doctor held onto the wall for dear life, Sean tightly pressed against him for stability. Panting into the wounds in the other’s neck, he noticed they were already closing.

And then the foundation collapsed, both men whining and gasping for mercy. While Jonathan had come to, horror dawning upon him, his partner straight up passed out, curled up in his lap.

Should he provide aftercare? Should he leave? Does he regret what just happened? God, what just happened?

He would feel guilty if he moved and guilty if he didn’t; damned if he did, damned if he didn’t. The ekon was lightheaded for multiple reasons, having a difficult time deciding on what to do. Eventually, he decided to just pass out there. The sun would be rising soon anyways, and this felt less awkward than abandoning him for some reason. Jonathan sighed.

They would have a lot to work out in the evening.

**Author's Note:**

> If you don't know what a union suit is, it's basically old timey underwear, and it's more like a tank top and shorts than anything. Yeah, we gettin historically accurate lmao. Thanks for reading. <3


End file.
